


Interviewing The Suspect

by eeyore9990



Series: Big Bad John [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Derek Feels, Gen, Police interview
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-31 00:28:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1025187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeyore9990/pseuds/eeyore9990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glancing at the clock on the wall, John cleared his throat and said, "September 4, 2011, 10:32 pm. Interview of detainee Derek Hale by Sheriff John Stilinski of Beacon Hills Sheriff's Department in reference to the death of Laura Hale."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interviewing The Suspect

**Author's Note:**

> I'm using the Sheriff's fandom-favorite name for him, and I will cuss a blue streak when he turns out to be a Henry or something in S3B.
> 
> Also, Badly Timed Boner, Ch 4, will be posted in just a bit, for those who are waiting.

John set up the microphone in the middle of the table, plugged it into the tape machine, and pressed record. 

Glancing at the clock on the wall, he cleared his throat and said, "September 4, 2011, 10:32 pm. Interview of detainee Derek Hale by Sheriff John Stilinski of Beacon Hills Sheriff's Department in reference to the death of Laura Hale."

Across the plain metal table, Hale was staring down at his right wrist while his left thumb stroked a line across it. Exactly where the cuffs had cut into his flesh. John was actually surprised there weren't any marks on his skin. His deputies weren't known for being gentle in the face of what was looking like a gruesome homicide.

"Please state your name, for the record."

There was a long pause, during which John started to wonder if Hale was going to turn uncooperative on him. The boy— _man_ —had about fifty pounds of solid muscle on him, and John was not looking forward to that particular fight.

Suddenly, though, Hale blinked, as if dragging himself from some other place. "Derek Hale. My name is Derek Hale."

"Middle name?"

When Hale gave an abrupt shake of his head, John bit back a sigh and said, "Mr Hale shook his head in the negative." Pointedly staring into Hale's eyes, he said, "Please state your answers clearly."

A muscle leapt in Hale's jaw, but he nodded and muttered, "Yes, sir."

"Were you advised of your rights by deputies from the Beacon Hills Sheriff's Department upon your arrest?"

Swallowing, Hale started to nod, then caught himself and said, "Yes."

"And did you waive your right to silence?"

"Yes."

"For the record, would you like to consult a public defender or any other defense attorney of your choice before we proceed?" John knew cops who wouldn't make such an offer, but he prided himself on his ethics. Plus...he couldn't shake the memory of a soot-and tear-stained boy staring up at him from those eyes.

Hale blinked down at the table, as if struggling against his inner voice of reason. "No. I...no. I want to find who did this. If you're concentrating on me, you won't find them." 

"Other avenues of investigation are ongoing. So, if your answer changes at any point, just tell me." John really needed to stop pushing this, but he knew if it was Stiles sitting across the table, he'd want someone to remind the dumb shit to seek counsel.

But all he got from Hale in return was a shrug and, "Okay."

Letting out a short breath, John sat back in his seat and stared at Hale for a few ticks of the clock before he said, "Why don't you tell me what you know."

Hale looked up, surprise coloring his eyes a deeper hue before he drew his eyebrows together. "Which part?"

"Start from the beginning, and just talk until you run out of steam. If I need clarification on any points, I'll jump in."

Nodding, Hale stared at the table for a long minute, apparently gathering his thoughts. "I got a voice mail from Laura last Sunday. I was working the late shift at O'Malley's—that's a bar in Midtown. Uh, New York? Anyway, when I got off shift, I turned on my phone and had a message from her." Hale made a motion for his jacket pocket, then seemed to remember himself. "It's still on my phone, which...uh, the other Deputy has?"

John nodded and made a note to check. 

"She said she'd found something and needed me to come back right away. She sounded...scared or...? I don't know. I tried to call her back, but it went to voice mail." Hale's voice dwindled off, and he got the faraway look of a person trapped in memories.

Offering the nudge Hale obviously needed, John asked, "Did you find out what she was referring to?"

A ragged breath escaped Hale then. "No. I...that message was the last time I heard from her." 

Putting his hand over the mic, John quietly asked, "Do you need a minute?"

With a firm shake of his head, Hale said, "No, I just want to get this over with."

John sat back and tapped his notepad, waiting.

"I called my boss, let him know I was leaving town for a family emergency, and caught a flight out midmorning on Monday. Uh, American Airlines. I don't remember the flight number, but it left JFK and landed in San Francisco."

"We can find it."

"When I landed, I got on the train to Beacon North. I'd left several messages for Laura to let her know when to pick me up, but she wasn't at the station. That's when I knew something wasn't right."

"Is it possible she hadn't received your messages?"

"No. Laura...God, she always had her phone on her. It drove me crazy. So. No. And she would never have left me there without...she would have been there." Hale rubbed harder at his wrist, drawing a red line on the skin that quickly faded. "She was a good al—" A strangled cough cleared Hale's throat enough for him to grit out, "A good sister."

"So you got to town Monday...night?"

"Early evening. It was six or so? The diner beside the station was busy with the dinner rush. I called a taxi and—do you need to get that?"

John blinked, confused, and then noticed it. His phone was vibrating in his pocket. It was his work phone, so he nodded and said, "Just a minute."

Flipping open his phone, he saw a missed call and a text message. Opening the message, he read it and sighed with no little relief. Shooting back a quick text to let the coroner know he'd got the message, he looked back up at Hale. "Son, I know you didn't kill your sister. That was Dr Hadley, the coroner. The town vet, Dr Deaton, confirmed Dr Hadley's finding that the victim, Laura Hale, was killed by an animal."

Expecting relief, John was surprised to see Hale stiffen in something like alarm. "An animal? Are you sure?"

"Yeah. We've got Animal Control on alert for it, so you're..." And then John stopped, because there was one last question that needed an answer. "I know you didn't kill her, but son—" A slight flinch at the term made John flush and correct himself. "Hale. Why did you hide her body?"

The grief that flashed through Hale's eyes then made John's stomach clench in sympathy. "I wasn't trying to _hide_...Sheriff, my family is gone. All of it. There used to be so many of us, but after the fire...it was just me and Laura. I couldn't bury my parents, or my little brother and sister, or my cousins or my aunt. But I could at least do that one thing for Laura. I couldn't save her, but I could bury her." Hale's low, impassioned speech was directed at the floor. His nostrils flared, and John wondered for a minute if he could still smell smoke as clearly as John himself could still smell the bitter stench of the cancer ward.

Reaching across the table, and ignoring the way Hale stiffened, John stopped the recording. "You're free to go. Thank you for your time and cooperation."

Hale nodded and stood, and for a minute, he was once more the lost boy staring in disbelief at the ashes of his childhood home. John gained his feet quickly and said, "Let me walk you out."

"I just...my phone. It's...I'd like to have it back."

"We'll get all your things. My deputies should already be working on the paperwork. But, in the meantime..." John reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. Tugging free a nondescript business card, he held it out. "This is... In this line of work, sometimes we see things that can't be unseen. Things that haunt us. You don't have to do anything with this, but Becky's good." Scratching the back of his neck, John waited for Hale to take the card.

When he did, Hale's grip was so tight as he stared down at it that the paper crumpled under his thumb. "Thank you."

"I won't know if you use it. No one will. But I hope you do."

Swallowing, Hale looked up at John and repeated, "Thank you."

John nodded and put a gentle hand on Hale's shoulder. "Come on. Let's get you out of here."


End file.
